


Spare Room

by themuslimbarbie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuslimbarbie/pseuds/themuslimbarbie
Summary: Iris has a crush and her girlfriend is entirely too supportive of it.





	Spare Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimozka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimozka/gifts).



> Written for mimozka/blackcanarydinah for the DCCW Rarepair Swap. This is a little bit different than what you asked for, but I have a feeling you'll like it. 
> 
> (Also, everything I know about medical school and residencies, I learned from Google. I'm so sorry.)

It all starts with The List.

Every couple has one, a list of celebrities they’re allowed to cheat on their partner with. It’s very important, Iris says the first time they have The Conversation about The List. You’re basically not a real couple until you have one. Sara’s lucky to have Iris to teach her these things. How she ever had a relationship before is beyond her.

The List, contrary to what one might expect, is not a rigid structure. You’re allowed to change your List as many times as you want, but you have to do it before you meet said celebrity. You’re only allowed to have three though, which means losing the chance with someone else. For example, say you have Clark Kent on your List but you decide to boot him off for Mari McCabe, and then run into Clark Kent on your way to work. Any chance of you and Clark Kent happening is officially over.

(“You have put way too much thought into this,” Sara says.

Iris grins. “What can I say? I’m thorough.”)

Some people set their List and stick with it. Iris and Sara are not those people. Their Lists are constantly changing, evolving, transforming. Anyone who’s anyone makes it onto their Lists: Kory Anders, Jefferson Jackson, Richard Grayson, even Diana Prince.

“Oliver Queen,” Iris says one evening when they’re lying in bed, going through their List.

Sara raises a brow. “Oliver Queen?” she repeats slowly. “As in billionaire-party-boy-of-Starling? _That_ Oliver Queen?”

“ _Former_ party boy,” Iris corrects her. “And don’t try and act all high and mighty. We both know he’s totally your type. You’re just jealous I thought of him first.”

“Yeah,” Sara says playfully, “ _Jealous_. That’s the word.”

Iris smacks her with a pillow and Sara laughs.

Which is pretty much ends the conversation on her current List, and Oliver Queen fades from her mind for the next couple of weeks. Until one evening, when Iris is in the middle of cleaning the kitchen, someone knocks on the door.

Sara sticks her head out of their bedroom door, toothbrush still in mouth. “Can you get that?” she asks. “It’s probably my friend from Starling.”

Iris frowns and stares at her. “What friend from Starling?” she asks, crossing her arms. But Sara retreats back to the bathroom before Iris can even finish the sentence. “ _What_ friend from Starling, Sara?” Iris calls out more than loud enough for Sara to hear, but she’s only met with the sound of the faucet running.

She stands there for a moment, debating between answering the door or going into the bedroom and having a very serious conversation with her girlfriend about informing her when she invites people to their apartment at ten p.m. on a Monday night. Ultimately, Iris decides on the former, partially because it’s the polite thing to do, but mostly whoever it is at the door knocks again.

But any thought she has about lecturing Sara goes right out the window the moment she opens the door. Along with most of her other thoughts.

“You must be Iris. I’m –”

“Oliver Queen…”

It takes Iris a full five seconds to snap out of her daze, which is probably quicker than most people would react, but still slow enough to embarrass herself. She tries to shakes it off and offers him the most charming smile she can muster, steps aside, and gestures for him to come in. She apologizes and explains that Sara didn’t tell her they were having company so she was just taken aback.

He stops when he hears that, but doesn’t seem entirely surprised. Instead he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Of course she didn’t,” he says, shaking his head. “I should just go to a hotel.”

“No!” Iris says, probably a little too quickly. “I mean, there’s really no need. You’re already here and we have a guest room.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t m–”

“Trust me,” Sara says, doing that thing Iris hates where she just appears out of nowhere. “She doesn’t mind at all. _Right_ , Iris?”

Iris would glare at her if she wasn’t too busy nodding at Oliver.

 

 

Fortunately, Sara spares Iris the possibility of further embarrassing herself by showing Oliver Queen(!) their guest room and giving him towels so he can freshen up from his flight. Which then leaves her alone with Iris, who has finally recovered from her shock enough to demand answers.

“You know Oliver Queen? And you didn’t _tell me_?” Iris hisses behind their closed door.

Sara raises a brow. “What are you talking about? I told you about Ollie.”

Iris stares at her. A beat passes, and then another. The realization finally hits her. “ _Ollie_? As in your ex Ollie? He’s _Oliver Queen_?”

“Well, yeah. How many other guys our age do you know named Oliver?” Sara asks with a serious voice but a mischievous grin. Iris throws the nearest pillow at Sara. Sara dodges it, _of course_ , and just laughs. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know until you put him on your List.”

“The List!” Iris doesn’t know how that wasn’t the first thought that came to her. “Wait. Is that why he’s here?”

“Yes, dear,” Sara says. “I hit up my ex-boyfriend up to tell him that my current girlfriend is hot for him so he should come over.”

Iris throws another pillow at Sara. “I hate you.”

Sara just laughs at her again.

 

 

Turns out Queen Consolidated is looking to open a satellite office in Central City so Oliver Queen is in town to work out some details. He called Sara a couple of days ago to see if she wanted to meet up while he was there. They talked for a bit and caught up. Which somehow turned into Oliver Queen staying in their guest room for the next two weeks.

Iris still isn't sure exactly how Sara convinced her ex-boyfriend that their apartment was a better idea than a five-star hotel, but Sara doesn't seem keen on sharing the details. And, for once in her life, Iris doesn't push the mystery.

“You know,” she says later that night when Sara curls up in bed next to her. “This means you’re never allowed to make fun of my taste in guys ever again. Since we apparently have the same taste.”

“You dated Barry Allen,” Sara says crinkling her nose. “We do not have the same taste.”

Iris laughs. “We were teenagers!”

“You were _nineteen_. You should have known better.”

She shoves her shoulder. “Jerk.”

“Sorry,” Sara says in a way that is clearly not sorry and kisses along her jawline. “However will I make it up to you?”

“Oh,” Iris gasps when Sara's teeth find the crook of her neck. “I can think of a few ways.”

 

 

The basic facts are as follows:

Sara and “Ollie” met through her sister when they were teenagers. Sara had this _embarrassing_ crush on him for a couple of years, but was too shy to ever actually make a move.

They didn't actually get together until she was an undergrad and he had dropped out of his third Ivy and moved home to work for the family business.

They had been pretty serious up until Sara moved to Central City for med-school.

Sara and Iris started dating eight months after that and have been inseparable ever since.

 

 

Iris wakes up in the morning to find no Oliver Queen, but two Jitters cups sitting on the kitchen counter. The first cup has Sara’s name written on it and the order markings for a fat-free chai latte with two shots of espresso. It’s been Sara’s favorite non-alcoholic drink for as long as Iris has known her. The second cup doesn’t say anything, but has a yellow post-it note on it.

_Sorry, I didn’t know what you would want. Will get it right next time. – Oliver_

Sara rolls her eyes when she walks into the kitchen. “Of course he did,” she mumbles but smiles when she picks up her cup and sees the order.

“He didn’t have to get us coffee. That was really sweet of him.”

“Yeah, unnecessary, sweet gestures are kind of his thing,” Sara says casually as she opens the pantry and grabs one of her breakfast bars. Iris wonders how many sweet, unnecessary gestures it takes to be a _thing_ , but Sara continues before Iris can vocalize the thought. “Remember, I have a surgery at the hospital tonight,” she says, then smiles and adds, “Have fun alone with _Ollie_.”

Iris nearly chokes on her coffee. She tries to cover it with a laugh and even though it clearly doesn’t work, she doesn’t miss a beat. “Maybe I will,” she says as casually as she can between coughs. “All’s fair with The List, right?”

Sara laughs and kisses her.

 

 

At this point, Iris thinks she needs to make it perfectly clear that she has no actual intention of sleeping with Oliver. It doesn’t matter that he’s Oliver freaking Queen and there may or may not have been a week in high school where she had his picture in her locker, because Iris is perfectly happy with her life and her relationship. Sure, she and Sara joke around about more, but that’s really all it is – jokes. Anything else would be weird.

But even knowing that, Iris finds herself oddly nervous and excited all day.

She doesn’t know exactly what she expects to happen at dinner, much less when she gets home. But what she doesn’t expect is what she gets – a quiet, empty apartment with no signs of Oliver Queen. She frowns when she walks in the door and realizes she’s alone.

"This stuff is way more exciting in the movies," she mumbles to herself.

She tosses her bag on the couch and goes to empty the dishes Sara loaded into the machine that morning. She makes it about halfway when she hears the door unlock. Iris turns around just in time to see Oliver walking through the door. He’s dressed in a suit that probably cost more than her rent, and is balancing a briefcase and keys in one hand and his phone with the other.

“No, Thea, it’s really fine. I mean it,” Oliver says as he closes and locks the door behind him. He notices Iris right away and gives her a small smile. “Look, Speedy, I have to go. I’m back at the apartment.” He lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes at whoever is on the phone. “Love you, too. _Bye_ ,” he says before hanging up. “Sorry about that,” he tells Iris. “My sister can be very insistent when she has something to say to me.”

Iris smiles. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. She closes the dishwasher and puts the last cup away before turning to face him completely. “Your sister’s younger, right? I have a brother so I get it. Little siblings are a pain.”

“That they are,” he says.

A small, somewhat awkward, silence falls between them. It only takes a beat or two for Iris to break it, desperate to at least have some sort of conversation flowing. “Sara won’t be home until late,” she explains, pointing to the calendar on their fridge.

When Sara first moved into the apartment, they tried the whole merging their electronic calendars thing, but it never really worked for them. Sara’s was always full the names of weird lectures she had to attend or homework assignments she had to do, while Iris’s was scattered with weirdly vague events such as “meet the guy at the fish place for Einstein story” that usually left Sara uncharacteristically concerned. But because of their ridiculous schedules, they still needed something that would let them know when the other would be home. So they realized that a good, old-fashioned physical calendar would be the easiest way to keep track.

Wally laughed the first time he saw it hanging on the fridge. Said it was the type of thing that married couples with two-point-five kids and a dog would do. He gave Iris shit about it for the longest time. Eventually, though, he told her that the day he saw that stupid calendar was the day he realized Sara was it for Iris. No one uses a physical calendar for someone they’re not serious about.

Oliver glances at the calendar and nods. “I saw this morning,” he says.

“Oh!” Iris says suddenly embarrassed she forgot. “Speaking of this morning: thank you for the coffee. You didn't have to do that.”

He shrugs and, for a second, she wonders if he's embarrassed. “It's just coffee,” he says. “Sorry if it wasn't right. I thought it was better to guess than risk waking you up to ask.”

“It was fine. I'm pretty much okay with whatever as long as it has caffeine,” she says as casually as she muster. “Especially Jitters caffeine. I actually used to work one.”

“I know,” Oliver says. Which is pretty much the last thing she expects. He seems to realize it and, this time, she knows he's embarrassed. “I'm sorry, that sounded really bad. I meant that I know because Sara told me that's where you two met.”

“Oh,” she says, the one embarrassed now. Of course he would know that because of Sara. What other reason could he possibly have? “Yeah. That was my last day, actually. I started at CCPN the next week. So I guess we got really lucky there.”

He laughs softly. “Sounds like it.” He pauses and, for a moment, she thinks he’s going to say something else. She thinks that maybe he does too, because he starts to open his mouth, but changes his mind at the last second and tries to hide it with a half-charming, half-awkward smile. So she smiles back, trying her best to not be as awkward about it as him, and they stand there, somewhat-awkwardly smiling at each other like a couple of idiots.

Again, Iris is the one who breaks first. “Do you like Chinese?” she says suddenly. “It’s just I haven’t eaten yet and there’s this place down the street that Sara and I go to at least once a week. They have the best chow mein in Central City. Maybe even the whole state.”

If Oliver is surprised by her sudden change in subject, he doesn’t show it. “Chinese sounds great,” he says with a smile.

During the walk to the restaurant, Iris tells him about her job at Central City Picture News and Oliver tells him about Q.C.’s plans to open a second office. They joke about the difference between Starling and Central City, about how he has never seen a city that loved their team’s quarterback as much as Central City loves Jefferson Jackson or how he can’t remember the last time he saw the sun so much. It isn’t awkward in the slightest (that doesn’t surprise Iris – he’s Oliver Queen, after all, he would probably bleed charm), but it _is_ small talk. And maybe it’s the reporter in her, but there’s only so much small talk Iris West can take.

“I didn’t learn how to ride a bike until I was twenty,” she says after they order their food. “The day I got my first bike, my little brother stole it and crashed it. My dad got so mad that he refused to buy either of us another bike, so I just never learned.” She says it all so suddenly that Oliver just stares at her, clearly confused, with a raised brow. She blushes a little and shakes her head. “That was random, I know. But I just had to say something before we talked about the weather again.”

Oliver snorts, but smiles. “No, that’s completely fair. It’s a pretty boring topic.”

“It really is,” she says. “Your turn. Tell me something random about yourself.”

“Looking for a scoop, Ms. West?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. He says it playfully, but there's still something guarded about it, as if he's not sure how much he can trust her.

Which, yeah, okay, sucks. Iris isn't exactly a fan of people doubting her. After all, the whole reason she became a journalist was because she wanted to share the truth, be the person people knew they could trust. And she thinks she’s getting there, because a lot of people do trust her. But at this point in her career she’s also used to people being leery of her _because_ she’s Iris West, Reporter for the Central City Picture News.

Fortunately, she's very good at making people trust her.

Iris rolls her eyes, but grins playfully at him. She leans forward and tries to close the space he created between them. “This is Central City, Mr. Queen,” she reminds him. “I know it might be hard for you to believe, but no one here is actually that interested in your personal life.”

He studies her for a moment and then another. But Iris thinks that she passes whatever trust test he just gave her, because he grins. He leans forward so they’re only inches apart, but she doesn't back up, just stares back into his (ridiculously gorgeous blue) eyes.

“Okay,” he says, “How about this: I… never learned how to drive.”

This time she stares at him. A beat passes and then another. “ _Really_?” she asks at last.

Oliver shrugs and takes another drink from his beer, and for a second she thinks he looks embarrassed. But she blinks and it's gone. “I was a bit of troublesome kid,” he explains. “Had a tendency to run off. My parents thought it would be worse if I had a car, so I never learned. I always had a driver anyways.”

“Were they right?” she asks. “I mean, about you running off more if you could.”

“Oh, definitely,” he chuckles softly. “I wanted nothing more than to leave Starling. I could never understand why Sara stayed for her undergrad. I thought it was the worst place on the planet.”

“And now?”

He presses his lips together and pauses. “Now…” He smiles tightly. “Let’s just say that now I know the importance of home.”

The waitress returns with their food and he doesn't say much after that. She knows there’s more to the story, but she doesn’t push it. It’s a start, she thinks, and hopefully just the start. If she plays her cards right, maybe there will be more to come.

“Hold on,” Iris says at the end of their meal as they’re getting up from their table. “Did you tell me about the driving thing so you could one-up my bike story?”

Oliver grins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Iris shoves his shoulder and he laughs.

 

 

Sara crawls into bed around eleven that night. She doesn’t even change out of her scrubs, just curls up next to Iris and buries her face in the crook of her neck. Iris wraps her arm around Sara, but wrinkles her nose when she realizes Sara smells like hand sanitizer and stale coffee.

“Surgery go okay?” she asks.

Sara nods but doesn’t lift her head. “Some complications, but we handled them. Took a while though,” she explains. She pauses then pulls back and looks at Iris with a playful smirk. “How was dinner with Ollie? Was he even more handsome up close?”

Iris rolls her eye, but smiles. “ _Dinner_ was good. We talked a lot. Went to Wu-San’s. Your dumplings are in the fridge, by the way.”

She feigns a disappointed look. “Is that all?”

“No. Then we came back to the apartment and made out on the couch for two hours. It was epic.”

Sara grins. “That’s my girl,” she says proudly.

“I hate you,” Iris says and Sara laughs, full and loud, before resting her head back down against Iris’s neck. Iris puts her chin on Sara’s head. “He’s… nice,” she says after a moment. Her fingers toy with Sara's hair and she suddenly feels a bit like a nervous teenager even though she knows there's really no reason to _be_ nervous. “I like him.”

There is a beat and she thinks she can feel Sara smiling against her. She doesn’t say anything, but she squeezes Iris’s waist once, gently, and Iris thinks that says enough.

 

 

As the week goes on, it gets easier, more comfortable, having him there. Not that having him there was uncomfortable in the first place. But it's different, because they get to know each other. And the more they know, the more they seem to get along. So the more they know, the more they go out of their way to get know each other more.

It becomes some sort of routine with them, to find a way to spend time together every day. It isn't always easy given that no one in the apartment has a traditional nine-to-five job, and it doesn't always work out. Sometimes it ends up being just Iris and Oliver, sometimes just Sara and Oliver. But they always try, even if it's for something as simple as having coffee in the morning or taking a slightly longer lunch to get together.

The morning Iris’s story makes the front page of CCPN is one of those lunch days.

When Oliver calls her to congratulate her, Iris smiles and balances the phone against her ear. She logs on to her computer and asks, “How did you even find out about that?”

“Believe it or not, I do know what a newspaper is,” Oliver says and she thinks she can hear him grinning. “One of the accountants I met with this morning had a copy on his desk,” he explains. “I think we should celebrate.”

Iris laughs. “It’s just a story, Oliver. It's really not that big of a deal.”

“Sure it is,” he says. “Look, I already talked to Sara and she said she has a break at one. We could do lunch?” He pauses and then adds, “There’s a really good sushi place someone recommended that’s near the hospital. And you did say you were craving sushi the other day.”

Iris doesn’t know what surprises her more, that Oliver remembered her random cravings or that she isn’t surprised that he would remember something as seemingly insignificant as what food she mentioned a few days back. Sara wasn’t kidding when she said this was his thing.

“It sounds like I don’t have much a choice,” Iris says and snorts when he agrees. “Fine,” she says dramatically. “If you _absolutely_ insist, Oliver Queen, I will let you buy me an expensive lunch at a fancy restaurant of your choosing.”

“Yes,” he cheers playfully.

Iris laughs. “I have a meeting around eleven-thirty, but it shouldn't last more than an hour. I'll call you when I'm near Q.C. and then we’ll swing by the hospital.”

“Perfect.”

 

 

When Oliver and Iris gets to the hospital, Sara’s standing outside and talking to Shado, who is sipping a smoothie from the hospital cafeteria and leaning against the wall like some sort of model. She laughs at something Sara says and Iris thinks it’s kind of ridiculous how Shado can always look so gorgeous no matter what she’s doing. She should be used to it by now, but somehow it still manages to surprise her every time.

Shado was Sara’s first friend in Central City. They were in the same classes their first year of med-school, back when Sara first moved from Starling and Shado from China and they were both homesick. So they studied together, even though they eventually found their own group of friends apart from one another. It actually took Iris years to personally meet Shado because she and Sara never spend much time together outside of school.

Even now, when they were the only two students from their year accepted into their residency program, Iris hardly saw her. Not that she blames her. Sara barely has time for Iris some days. It isn’t easy having a social life when the rest of your life is dedicated to helping people.

Sara grins when Iris pulls up. She sticks her head through the passenger side window of Iris’s car and says, “I tried to Ollie that if he plans on buying lunch every time you get a byline he’ll end up draining his trust fund, but he wouldn’t listen.”  

Oliver shrugs. “There are worse ways to go out.”

Shado smiles at Iris from behind Sara. “It looks like you are developing a fan club,” she says as she tosses her empty cup into a trash can.

“Seems like it.” Iris laughs. Shado congratulates before she excuses herself to go back to her rounds.

“Oh,” Sara says as she climbs into the backseat, ignoring Oliver when he protests and offers to move so Sara can sit in the front. “Dinah texted. She wants to have lunch on Saturday since Babs will be in town. Linda already said she and Wally are driving up from Keystone. You guys down?”

“You know I’m always down for Dinah’s cooking,” Iris says and makes a mental note to ask Linda to bring her the coat Sara leant her the last time she and Wally went skiing.

“Uh,” Oliver says. “Who’s Dinah?”

Instead of answering, Sara just glances at Iris and grins. “Now we definitely have to go.”

 

 

For years, Joe “joked” that Iris has a type and that type is very specifically people who work with him at CCPD. Once was bad enough, twice was a coincidence, but three times? That was a type. Eddie, Patty, Barry – she did know that there were other people in Central City, right?

(“The Barry one isn’t fair,” Iris argued. “That was before he worked with you.”

“Yeah, well, it was a stupid decision back then too.”)

It got to the point where Joe flat out refused to introduce Iris to his new partner because he was worried she would fall in love with her and he wasn’t about to go through that again. Iris was offended at first, but then, within five minutes of meeting her, realized that Joe might have been right because Dinah Drake is exactly the kind of person Iris could see herself, and anyone really, falling for.

She’s the kind of woman who takes life by the horns and doesn’t give a shit what life has to say about it, and consistently leaves a trail of awestruck people everywhere she goes. But she’s kind and compassionate and one of the most considerate people Iris has ever met. And if Dinah hadn’t already been in a long-distance relationship with her college sweetheart when they met and Iris hadn’t already been falling for Sara then, yeah, it might have led to something. But it didn’t and Dinah and Iris became nothing more than friends. And, for a few weeks, Joe thought the curse was broken.

Until he met Sara who, in his words, was “basically Dinah but a doctor instead of a cop.”

Which… wasn’t completely untrue. Which then meant that Sara and Dinah took to each other like birds of a feather. So much so that Iris sometimes wondered if she would even get to keep Dinah if Iris and Sara were ever to breakup.

(“You sure you wanna know the answer to that one?” Dinah said the one time Iris asked.

Iris decided she did not.)

 

 

Wally with his stupid, reckless speed obsession drives so fast on Saturday that he and Linda make it to Dinah’s place a full hour earlier than planned. Which means that Sara, Iris, and Oliver are the last ones to arrive. When they show up with a couple of cases of beers, Dinah opens the door, takes one look at Oliver, and purses her lips. “Huh,” she says disappointedly, “You're not as hot in person.”

Oliver stares at Dinah for a moment, clearly unsure of how to respond. “I'm...  sorry?” he says, but it's a beat too late and Dinah’s already moved back into the house. Oliver glances back at Sara and Iris who just grin back at him.

Sara pats him on the back. “It’s okay, slugger. You’ll get her next time,” she says and laughs when he glares at her.

The rest of the introductions go a bit smoother. There’s Wally who recently got his master’s degree and just started a job as an auto engineer. Then there’s Linda, Wally’s girlfriend, who used to work at CCPN with Iris before she and Wally moved to Keystone. And finally, there’s Barbara, Dinah’s wife, who works at Wayne Enterprises. Yes, the Wayne Enterprises in Gotham City. Yes, Dinah and Barbara live in different cities. Yes, they know that it’s unconventional.

Oliver shrugs at the last bit. “Conventional is overrated,” he says.

Barbara glances at Dinah who pauses from passing out drinks to look back at her. After a beat, Dinah smiles, almost thoughtfully, and hands him a beer. Barbara looks to Sara and Iris and says, “I guess he’s alright.”

And it’s not that it was particularly tense before then, but Iris knows that Dinah and Barbara are not always the easiest people to win over. And, though they would never admit it to her or Sara, Iris thinks that maybe they had some preconceived notions about Oliver – because of his family name, because of what the tabloid used to say about him, even because he’s Sara’s ex-boyfriend who’s suddenly popped back into her life. And Iris knows that any hesitations they might have about Oliver are probably still there and probably will be for a little while, but it’s a good start. So, yeah, Barbara’s approval seems to lighten what little tension was in the room.

Dinah goes back to the balcony where she’s grilling burgers. Sara plops on the couch and squeezes herself between Wally and Linda, and playfully sticks her tongue out at Wally when he complains, before turning to Linda and bringing up the last game between the Keystone Patriots and the Central City Diamonds. Wally complains, quite loudly, about trying to watch this documentary Dinah recommended for him. When they ignore him, he looks to Iris.

“The next time you date someone, make sure they don’t like sports,” he says.

“Uh, excuse me,” Iris says back. “I _was_ dating someone who didn’t care about sports. _Your_ girlfriend was the one who ruined that.”

“Damn right,” Linda says. “And I’ll do it again. Hey, Oliver, you’re from Starling, right? What’s up with the Stars? They suck this season.”

Iris turns to tell him not to answer it, because it’s probably a trick, but he beats Iris to it. “They’re 25-10,” he says with a raised brow. “They’re not doing as well as the Patriots, but they’re a hell of a lot better than the Diamonds.”

Linda grins broadly and high-fives Oliver, Sara protests, and Wally lets out an annoyed groan. “At least pick a better sport,” he complains. “Baseball is the worst one.”

They ignore him. Iris laughs when he gives up and just turns the volume up on the TV and tries to watch the documentary.

“Hey, Babs,” Iris says when she realizes the others really are distracted. “Listen, I’ve actually been meaning to ask you for your _help_ with a story I’m working on. There’s this real-estate scandal going on – people being wrongfully evicted – and I recently got a tip that the mayor’s office might be in on it.”

Barbara’s face lights up immediately and Iris swears she sees an actual twinkle in her eyes. “I see. So it would probably be beneficial if you were to stumble upon a bank statement or an email from his personal account…”

Dinah sticks her head in from the balcony. “Don’t even think about it, Barbara,” she says. Iris isn’t even sure how Dinah heard them over all the other noise, but she isn’t particularly surprised. Cop’s instinct, maybe. Or just a Dinah one. “You said you were done hacking government officials.”

“What?” Barbara asks innocently. “You said the last story I helped Iris with got her nominated for the Perry K. White Award. This is _work_ , Dinah.”

“Wait,” Oliver says turning away from Iris and Sara. “You didn’t tell me you were nominated for an award, Iris. That’s great!”

Iris shrugs. “Thanks, but it’s really not that big of a deal. I’m up against Lois Lane,” she explains. “And don’t get me wrong: I’m good. But Lois is also up for a Pulitzer, so I’m not going to hold my breath.”

“Well, I am.”

Iris raises a brow, “Have you even read anything written by Lois Lane?”

“Of course I have,” Oliver protests. She stares at him. “Okay, I’ve had people tell me about them. Which is enough for me to know that you, Ms. West, will kick her ass.”

She laughs. “Whatever you say, Mr. Queen.”

Dinah reappears to let them know lunch is ready. She has a tray full of at least a dozen grilled burgers and between that and the table covered in food, Iris thinks there’s probably enough to feed twice as the number of people in the room. Which is probably intentional – it makes it easier for Dinah to force her and Sara to take some home with them. It’s been Dinah’s trick ever since she realized exactly how much take-out Iris and Sara eat.

“Dinah, did you make all of this by yourself?” Oliver asks when they get to the table.

“No, Linda and Wally made about half of it,” Dinah says as she sits down. “It took us two trips to get everything out from their car.”

“And we are _not_ dragging it back to Keystone,” Linda adds. “So make sure you eat all of it.”

Oliver’s brows fur together and he frowns. Sara rolls her eyes when she sees and stops him before he can say anything. “Iris and I aren’t allowed to contribute. Which means you aren’t allowed to contribute. So don’t bother.”

“Oh man,” Wally laughs, piling half a dozen chicken tenders on his plate. “Trust me, man, you would much rather eat this than anything Iris puts together,” he says and dodges when Iris throws a fry at him. Iris grabs a second fry, but stops when she catches Babs glaring at her like a disapproving mother, and settles for throwing Wally a dirty look instead. He grins extra wide, probably just to piss her off, but then adds, “And from what Iris says, the one time Sara cooked, it wasn’t particularly edible.”

Oliver chokes on his beer. He coughs and then, once he catches his breath, gives Iris the most baffled look she’s ever seen from him. “Sara _cooked_?”

Iris nods as she begins to load her plate with probably four days’ worth of carbs. Vaguely she thinks she might have to actually wake up tomorrow morning to run with Sara. “Once,” she answers Oliver. “On our third date.” She pauses then adds, “It was some stew thing, I think.”

Sara frowns. “It was supposed to be chili.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “So Sara cooked and you... _ate_ it?”

“It was our third date!” Iris cries. “What was I supposed to do? I was trying to get laid.”

Wally chokes on his food. “I did not need to know that,” he says.

Iris shrugs. “Yeah, well, maybe Oliver didn’t need to know your opinions on my cooking, _Wallace_.”

“Hey!” Sara snaps, ignoring Iris and Wally’s banter. “I would just like to point out I only did this because _you_ ,” she points accusingly to Iris, “Said cooking was sexy.”

Oliver grins. “I think that’s only true if you can actually cook.”

Linda laughs and smacks Oliver on the back playfully. “I like him,” she declares. “We’re keeping him.”

“Uh,” Wally says, raising his hand. “Don't I get a say in this?”

“No,” Babs says without even looking up from her plate.

Dinah laughs. “Looks like you're not the only boy in the club anymore, West.”

Wally’s face lights up suddenly. “Well, in that case, welcome to the gang, Oliver!” He grins and holds his beer up. Oliver laughs, but toasts with him while the rest of them laugh.

Months down the line, Iris thinks that sitting there, laughing with Sara and Oliver and all of their friends, probably should have been the moment she knew Oliver would be a part of her life for a long time to come.

 

 

Iris expects Oliver’s last night in Central City to be difficult, but what she doesn’t expect is for it to be difficult because _Oliver_ is being difficult. Which is exactly what she finds when she comes home to Oliver and Sara in the middle of a very intense stare down. Well, Sara, with her hands crossed over her chest and a scowl on her lips, intensely staring down Oliver.

Iris raises a brow. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

He sighs dramatically. “Sara,” he says softly.

“Ollie,” she says firmly.

Iris glances between the two of them. “Feel free to fill me in at any point.”

They look at each for a moment before Oliver finally breaks his gaze from Sara and looks to Iris. “There were some… _complications_ with the satellite office,” he explains. “Walter thinks it would be best if I made periodic visits to Central City to ensure everything runs as smoothly as it should.”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell him that’s great but she bites it back because it’s probably not great news for his family or the company, even if it’s great news for her. “Okay…” she says a beat later. “That still doesn’t explain _this_ ,” she gestures between him and Sara.

“Oliver doesn’t want to stay here anymore,” Sara says. “He’d rather stay at a hotel.”

It should be worth noting that Iris hates that she freezes when Sara says it. She hates that she thinks her heart misses a beat and the air suddenly feels a little thin. Hates that this man she’s only known for a couple of weeks can have this effect on her.

“That’s not what I said,” Oliver says immediately. “I just don’t know how often I’ll have to come into the Central City or even how long it’ll be each time. So I said I’d stay at a hotel because I don’t want to be a headache.”

“Well, that’s a load of crap,” Iris says.

Oliver blinks. “What?”

“What makes you think you can decide what is or isn’t a headache for us?” Iris asks. “Look, you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. If you want to go stay at one of those fancy hotels, that’s fine. But only _we_ get to decide what will inconvenience us, so don’t use us as an excuse.”

He studies her for a moment before he glances back at Sara who just grins at him. “Told you,” she says.

“You did,” he says before he sighs and smiles softly. “In that case, if it isn’t too much trouble, would you guys mind if I stayed here whenever I’m in Central City?”

Iris looks to Sara. “I don’t know,” she says playfully. “We’ll have to think about it.”

Oliver pauses, a little unsure if she’s really serious until Sara laughs. He shakes his head but smiles more. “I have no idea what I just signed myself up for, do I?”

“None whatsoever,” Sara says.

 

 

Iris thinks that this part of the story, the part where Oliver leaves them and goes back to Starling, is supposed to be the hardest part. The part where it suddenly hits her that he’s a part of her life because “you don’t know what you got until it’s gone” or however the cliché goes. And maybe that would be true if they didn’t spend so much of their time apart talking to each other.

He does things like text her during board meetings and actually responds when she forwards him the stupid chain emails her dad still sends her. On the days Sara makes it home first, Iris usually walks in on Sara facetiming Oliver and telling him some gruesome story about a surgery she observed. Even when he’s gone, he fits into their lives so quickly, so easily, that sometimes she thinks they forget that he’s hundreds of miles away.

But the days where he comes back become some of the days they looks forward to the most. Sara marks them on their fridge calendar and laughs when he complains about the lime green sharpie she uses. Nevertheless, it doesn’t take more than a couple of trips back to Central City for Oliver to get his own horribly-colored spot on their calendar, complete with all his comings and goings, his meetings, and his business dinners.

And his driving lessons.

The first time Iris tells Oliver she thinks she should teach him how to drive, she’s pretty sure he thinks she’s joking because he grins and tells her to just let him know when and where. But she’s serious and she doesn’t think he realizes that until the day she picks him up from the airport, takes him directly to the empty S.T.A.R. Labs parking lot, and hands him the keys to her car.

He tries to shrug if off at first, as if it’s still a joke she’s playing on him. He protests a little more when he realizes she’s serious. And it’s just when she can tell that he’s about to get defensive that she takes his hand in hers and reminds him that it’s just her.

“It can stay between us, if you want. No one else will ever need to know. But trust _me_.”

She can tell that surprises him, but she isn’t sure if that’s because he isn’t used to people telling him to trust them or because he realizes that he actually does trust her. Which Iris knows he does because he closes his eyes and inhales deeply before he takes the car keys from her. And tries to learn.

Which… doesn’t go as smoothly as Iris expected, but doesn’t go horribly. He doesn’t run over anything random in the parking lot or crash her car into a pole. He struggles, but she thinks that’s to be expected considering how he’s never even had to _think_ about driving a vehicle. But he tries. He pays attention to what she tells him and follows her directions and tries very hard to get it right.

At the end of the lesson, he smiles at her and asks when they’ll have their next lesson. Only this time it isn’t a joke and she thinks that maybe he seems genuinely excited about trying it again. He kind of likes trying new things, Iris thinks. It isn’t in his comfort zone, but once he gets pushed out of it, he likes the challenge.

It’s one of the mysteries she unpacks about Oliver.

Another is that when he's with Sara, he’s a different person than he is with the rest of the world. It’s actually one of the first things Iris notices about him. There are little things, like the way he laughs or the way he leans in closer when she's near. But there are bigger things too, like the way he lights up when she in the room or how his entire body just _relaxes_ when she’s near. There’s something about Sara’s presence that almost seems to fulfill him in a way. Like he's been waiting for her and cannot rest until she comes back to him.

Like he's been lost at sea all of these years and finally found his way home to her.

That should bother her, Iris thinks. She should be jealous. Should be mad that he does that when Sara is with her and she's right there. But it doesn't. Which actually bothers her more, because that doesn’t make sense with how things are supposed to go and Iris is all about making things make sense. Putting the pieces together and solving the mystery.

So she tells herself that it's because she's secure in her relationship. Because she trusts Sara just like Sara trusts her. It's been too long for it to be anything else. Sara is a part of her now, just like Iris is a part of Sara. She cannot imagine her life without her. Wouldn’t want to even if she could.

Which is all true. But there's something else. Something more complicated. Because Iris notices the way Oliver starts to lean in when she's near, but stops that the last moment. The way he smiles a little brighter every time she says something funny, but always seems hesitant at first. It's as if he isn't quite sure if he should. Or can. But he wants to, and she thinks she wants him to, too.

There are two Oliver Queens, Iris thinks one evening when he texts her a chili recipe. One is the one he lets the world see and the other is the one he lets Sara see.

And maybe Iris too.

 

 

Sara never calls Iris when she has a late shift at the hospital. Sometimes she gets a couple of texts but that’s about it. Usually Sara’s too busy with rounds or paperwork or whatever other medical things Iris doesn’t understand. Which isn’t a big deal or anything – Iris gets the same way when she gets involved in researching a story. So when she gets a call from Sara, Iris knows that something has to be up.

Iris drapes her dry-cleaning over her arm and accepts the call while trying to balance all her things and open the door with a single hand. Sara’s face pops up and Iris can immediately tell that it’s bad news. “Hey, what happened? Is everything okay?” she asks, kicking the door closed behind her. It slams shut a little harder than she means to and Oliver sticks his head out of his door to see what the noise is.

Sara bites her lip before she tells Iris, “Dr. Thompkins asked me to assist with her surgery.”

“That’s amazing!” Iris says, tossing her dry cleaning on the couch. “You’ve been wanting to work with her all year, haven’t you? Why aren’t you excited?”

“It’s tomorrow evening.” It takes Iris a moment for the words to sink in. Because tomorrow night is the ceremony for the Perry K. White Award Iris was nominated for. Which means Sara would not be able to come with her. Iris doesn’t say anything, but she thinks her facial reaction must be pretty bad because Sara snaps. “Forget it,” she says. “I’ll tell Dr. Thompkins I can’t do it. I’m not even supposed to be on the schedule tomorrow. Maybe Shado can do it.”

“Don’t you dare!” Iris hisses. As much as she wants Sara there, she knows Sara needs to be in that operating room. She’s worked way too hard for way too many years to pass this opportunity up. Especially for some award that Iris doesn’t even think she’ll win.

They stare at each other for a moment before Iris hears Oliver clear his throat behind her. “I can go,” he says slowly, as if he’s unsure if he’s even allowed into the conversation. “That way Sara can do the surgery and Iris won’t be alone.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Iris says almost immediately, but kicks herself when she sees the way Oliver’s lips curl down ever so slightly in response. “If you don’t want to, I mean. I don’t mind being alone. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“I… want to,” he confesses.

There’s a beat before Sara says, “You do know this is a journalism event, right? Isn’t a room full of reporters your worst nightmare?”

Oliver shrugs before he realizes that Sara may not be able to see him over the phone. “It won’t be the first time I’ve had to do it,” he says. He smiles softly, playfully, before he adds, “Besides, Iris will protect me, won’t you?”

Iris smiles. “Always.”

Oliver glances from Iris to her phone. “Is that okay with you, Sara?” he asks, almost carefully. As if he half expects her to tell him no. And for a second, Iris thinks she does too.

She doesn’t though. Instead, Sara looks like she’s torn before frowning and grinning. “Sounds good,” she says after a beat.

He smiles at Sara reassuringly before he looks back at Iris and for a second she swears that her heart skips a beat.

 

 

The not-so-basic facts are as follows:

Oliver hates mornings, but wakes up at five a.m. every day so he can run with Sara before her shift at the hospital. They stop at the Jitters at the end of every run to get all three of them coffee. One time Sara tells him that Iris loves cronuts, so he starts picking them up for her too.

The reason he dropped out of college was because his father died while he was at a party at Harvard. He didn’t have his phone on him and didn’t get the news until the next afternoon when it was too late. That day he packed up his bags and never looked back. The days he spends with Sara and Iris are the longest he’s been away from Starling City since Robert Queen’s death.

He’s in love with Sara. Iris doesn’t know if it’s that he never stopped loving her or if he’s falling for her all over again. She doesn’t think it really matters in the end. Because, sometimes, when Sara’s not paying attention, he looks at her like she’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. Like the whole world could stop and none of it would matter as long as Sara was still there next to him. Iris knows because it’s how she looks at Sara.

And it might be the way she’s starting to look at him now.

 

 

Iris is already awake when Sara comes back from her morning run, which she thinks is pretty indicative of her state of mind because Iris never wakes up before seven a.m.. She tried the whole “morning run” thing with Sara when they first started dating, and it lasted precisely one day before Iris decided that she may love Sara but she loves her bed more. So it doesn’t even matter that she’s still curled up in bed, she knows Sara can tell something is on her mind as soon as she sees Iris awake.

She looks at Iris for a moment before she smiles softly and asks, “Nervous?”

Iris shakes her head. “No point. Lois is going to get it.” She sees Sara open her mouth to protest and rolls her eyes. “Don’t even try to tell me Lois freakin’ Lane isn’t winning the Perry K. White Award,” she says. It isn’t even a nepotism thing, just a Lois Lane thing. She’s been doing this a lot longer and while Iris may be good, she still has a bit to go. She’ll get there one day, she knows. But today is probably not that day.

Sara rolls her eyes back, but smiles and doesn’t protest. She sits on the edge of the bed closest to Iris’s waist. “Are... you upset I won’t be there?” The way she says it is calm, even, controlled. It’s the way Sara says things when she’s trying to soften the severity of something. It’s a front, Iris knows. She just isn’t sure if the front is for Iris or Sara.

“You can’t help it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Iris pauses and presses her lips together. “I… don’t remember what it’s like to go to one of these things without you,” she admits. She feels stupid saying it because on the list of problems in the world, having your partner miss a fancy dinner for an award you’re not going to win is definitely on the bottom.

Sara frowns and Iris can see the guilt eating her. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Iris says, taking Sara’s hand in her own. “I’m the one who told you to do the surgery. This night is about me and I want you at the hospital making your dream come true. Got it?”

She laughs and leans forward to kiss her. “Are you nervous?” Sara asks with a smirk once the mood lightens. “About your date with Ollie? He’s a pretty good kisser, you know. Not as good as me, but...”

Iris hits her with the nearest pillow. “You’re the worst,” she tells her.

This is the part of the joke where Sara is supposed to laugh and kiss her again. Where the idea of Oliver crumbles because Sara is there and Iris loves Sara and Sara loves Iris and that’s all there is supposed to be of it. But Sara doesn’t laugh.

“It’s okay if you are,” she says slowly. “I was.” There’s… _something_ there when Sara says it. Not jealousy. Something else. Something gentler, softer. Something almost… hopeful.

Iris isn’t sure what to make of that.

(Or at least isn’t sure she’s ready to confront what she thinks it means.)

 

 

Sara picked out Iris’s dress for the award dinner. The moment Iris tried it on, she could tell that it may be a bit too much for the occasion. But, then, the way Sara’s face lit up when she stepped out of the dressing room made Iris decide that it didn’t matter. Besides, it isn’t a scandalous dress by any means – no cleavage or thigh slits or anything ridiculous like that – just a dark green number that’s probably a hair too form flattering for the occasion. But just a hair. And it’s not like she’s going to win anyways so what does it matter what she wears?

But, standing in front of her mirror fully dressed that night, she thinks it’s a decision she very much regrets considering that Sara isn’t even here and she’s about to go to this dinner with Oliver instead.

Yeah, maybe she should change. Just wear something she has in her closet.

“Iris,” Oliver says, knocking on the door. “The car CCPN sent is here. Are you ready?”

She sighs. So much for that. “Yeah,” she says and turns to grab her clutch off her bed.

Oliver is leaning against the front door with his hands in his pockets, looking like some kind of stupid model or something, when she comes out from the room. He’s dressed in a suit that looks even more expensive than the ones he wears to Q.C. and has a green tie that Sara probably told him to wear. He smiles when he sees her and his face almost seems to light up in this way and suddenly Iris feels like a teenager.

“We look like we’re going to prom,” Iris says when Oliver opens the door for her.

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t know,” he confesses. “I didn’t go to mine.”

Iris shrugs and locks the apartment door. “You didn’t miss much,” she tells him. “It’s a bit like this. Only a lot less boring and with worse booze. And better music.”

“So it’s nothing like this?”

“No, not really,” she laughs. “Are you nervous about tonight?”

Oliver raises a brow. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”

“Yeah, well, a room full of reporters isn’t my worst nightmare,” Iris tells him.

He grins almost proudly and offers her his arm. Iris laughs but takes it. “Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I may not know much about proms, but I am a pro when it comes to – what did you call this? – overly fancy dinners.”

Which, as it turns out, is probably the understatement of the evening.

Oliver is charming the entire night in a way Iris isn’t quite used to. He lets Iris introduce him to everyone who approaches them and jokes about being a stand-in-Sara to the ones that ask about Sara. He engages lightly in conversations about politics and sports, always careful to avoid anything that would be too controversial. He not only laughs off any comments people make about his past, he manages to redirect them to be about Iris and her nomination.

He’s the perfect business date, she thinks.

“Did I do something wrong?” Oliver asks when they have a moment alone. “You’ve been giving me this weird look for the past few minutes.”

Iris shakes her head. “Sorry,” she says. “No, it’s just a little weird. I guess I just don’t see you like this very often. You’re different when you’re with other people. Which makes sense, actually, because you’ve probably been doing stuff like this for longer than I can even imagine. I think I just forget that sometimes.”

Oliver pauses, as if he’s unsure of what to make of that. Finally, he asks, “Does that bother you?”

She shakes her head. “The opposite, actually. I like that you’re different with us. It makes me feel special in a way,” she confesses. A beat passes and she suddenly realizes how pathetic that sounds. She blushes. “I’m sorry. _That_ was weird. Ignore me.”

He smiles softly and Iris thinks she feels something. “You _are_ special, Iris.”

Someone at the front of the room gets on the mic and asks everyone to be seated for dinner, so Iris doesn’t get the chance to respond. Which might be a blessing in disguise because she think she doesn’t know how she would have responded if she had the chance.

 

 

Lois wins the award, which comes as an absolute surprise to no one.

Still stings a bit though. Because even though she knew it would be Lois, even though she told everyone it would be Lois, a very small part of Iris had still held out hope that maybe, just _maybe_ , it would be her.

Oliver notices, of course. She can feel him watching her out of the corner of his eye when they call Lois’s name and when everyone stands up to applaud her. So Iris does her best to smile brightly and clap loudly. But when they sit back down, she feels his hand rest on her knee and he squeezes it once, gently. He looks forward, his eyes on Lois as she gives her acceptance speech, the whole time though. He comforts her in a way that never once draws any attention to her or the fact that she could be less than the perfect loser in that moment. Which might mean more to her than he could possibly know.

When he lets go, Iris catches his hand under the table and holds on to it.

They stay like that for the remainder of the dinner.

 

 

Fortunately, there isn’t much to the rest of the evening. Even her congratulations conversation with Lois is brief because so many other people are more eager to speak to her. The conversations with the people who commiserate Iris’s loss are a little longer, but not unbearably so. Oliver stays with her through all of it, with his hand on the small of her back, a gentle reminder that he’s there with her.

And then it sort of stays there, even once her little pity-party passes and her mood lightens, and even as they make their way back to the apartment. Even when she stands outside their door and pulls off her heels one at a time, he’s there, helping her balance, prepared to catch her if he needs to. It’s almost funny, Iris thinks, how he can be a little old-fashioned in only the good ways.

“Ah-hah!” Iris cheers when she digs her keys out. “Told you I could find them,” she says smugly as she unlocks the door and lets them in.

“I wasn’t doubting you,” he says, closing the door behind them. “Just pointing out that I _also_ have a key, one that wasn’t buried in your purse.”

Iris waves it off, and drops her clutch and heels on the couch. “I never want to see those shoes ever again,” she declares.

He laughs and Iris isn’t sure if it’s because of what she says or because he know she will probably be wearing them again the following week. But then he pauses, looks at her, and smiles gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t think I told you.”

Iris raises a brow. “Told me what?”

“How beautiful you look tonight.” He says it playfully, but there’s something else there. Something softer, more affectionate. Like it’s almost more than a friendly compliment.

She blushes, but a polite coughing behind her stops her before she can say anything back. She turns to find Sara, which is strange because it’s late and she knows Sara has had one hell of a day and should be asleep. But instead, she’s awake and there and leaning against the doorway to their bedroom with her arms crossed and this _smile_ on her lips.

“Am I interrupting?” she asks almost affectionately.

Iris smiles back and walks to Sara without even thinking about it. “What are you doing still up?”

“I heard Lois got the award,” Sara says as she steps forward, closing the little distance between them, and places her hands on Iris’s hips. “I thought you might need some _comforting_.” Sara leans forward with every word until her lips her almost, but not quite, brush against Iris’s.

Iris shudders.

Sara smirks.

So Iris kisses her, hot and heavy, until Sara is the one left breathless and shuddering.

But then, once she’s pulled back, Sara looks past Iris to Oliver, who has turned away to give them their privacy, and then back at Iris. She doesn’t say anything but there’s something there. Iris doesn’t know if it’s permission or a request, but she thinks that it means the same thing Sara was trying to tell her this morning. Only this time, Iris thinks she’s ready to confront exactly what it means.

She nods slowly and Sara smiles. She kisses Iris once more, soft and quick, before she turns and goes back to the room, leaving Iris alone with Oliver.

Iris takes a deep breath and gathers every last ounce of courage in her before she turns around. And, as if he can sense her eyes on him, Oliver finally looks back to her. They stand there for a beat, staring at each other, neither daring to say the first word. Finally, Iris breaks. “I think I’m going to head in there,” she says.

He smiles at her in this way that manages to be tight and soft at the same time. “Right,” he says with a nod. “Goodnight then, Iris.” He turns to his room and, for a moment, she wonders how he and Sara were ever able to get together when neither one of them seem capable of making an actual move.

“Oliver,” she calls. He pauses, his hand on his doorknob, and looks at her over his shoulder. “I’m going in there,” she repeats. “Are you coming?”

This time Oliver turns fully and faces her. He stares at her, as if he’s studying her to see if she’s serious. Iris rolls her eyes, halfway exhausted with him, but smiles softly and holds her hand out. Finally, he smiles fully, and Iris thinks she can feel something inside of her unlock.

He walks the distance between them and takes her hand. She squeezes it once, reassuringly, before she leads him to the bedroom.


End file.
